Being Human
by Aegypt
Summary: The two newest members of the Unseelie Court struggle to maintain their humanity, while dealing with the insatiable needs that come with their positions in Winter. Spoilers for the series through the short story Cold Case; mature readers only!
1. Chapter 1

I don't remember the moment when my feelings for Molly changed. I guess it was more of a gradual sort of thing, and I wasn't really aware of it happening—Probably because I had always been so adamant that nothing of the sort would ever happen. So, in all our history together, I can't really identify one particular turning point that would have made me change my mind.

But I sure as hell remember the moment when I realized it had already happened.

I had accompanied Molly on a trip to Japan, through the Ways. We had already taken a few trips like this, with Molly acting as a sort of emissary to various groups of Winter fae that lived around the world. Apparently, the missions had something to do with her duties as the Winter Lady. She was still reluctant, or unable, to tell me what those duties entailed. Sometimes, though, when she was traveling to a place for the first time, she'd ask me to come along. It was a way to scope out the route that she would use in the future, and it was always a good opportunity for us to catch up with each other. So whenever Molly asked me to accompany her, I was happy to go.

This time, as we traipsed through the Nevernever, we'd come across a group of ghouls. These particular ghouls weren't terribly smart, but they were as tough and fast as any of their cousins, and there were a lot of them. Molly and I ended up back-to-back as we fought them off. The hillside in the spirit world had been wreathed in a perpetual dim twilight when the ghouls appeared; now it erupted in light as our spells filled the air with Winter-blue flames and glittering faerie ice. I let the Winter Knight's mantle free, taking advantage of the supernatural strength and speed it lent me. I found myself grinning fiercely as I whirled my staff, smashed it into one ghoul after another.

There's something primitive and powerful about the exhilaration that comes with a fight for your life. Physical struggles call up adrenaline, heighten our senses, and tap into some of our oldest instincts. Being so close to danger, to death, reminds you that you're _alive,_ in a visceral way that normal life doesn't—not even _my_ life, which isn't all that normal. Of course, this primal sense was magnified by the Winter mantle, which had a fierce appreciation for any primitive emotions and would be perfectly happy if I suddenly reverted to a Neanderthal.

As the last ghoul fell, I let out a triumphant _whoop_. Adrenaline and Winter power were surging through me, bringing to the fore all the survival instincts that Winter _is:_ hunger, fury, bloodlust, regular lust… a throbbing, consuming need to _live_ , to drive back the oblivion that waits for us all. Being wrapped up in all of that, with the mantle's power coursing through me, was a vibrant high, and was nearly impossible to let go. I needed to hold on to that high, needed more life, _needed_ _more._ Molly, panting slightly, shot me a dazzling grin, with a ferocious light in her eyes that said she shared that feeling. She had a splash of ghoul's blood across one cheek, and her bright hair had started to come loose from her ponytail during the fight. She looked savage and beautiful, and I….

I did something stupid.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her into a kiss.

It wasn't a good kiss. It was an _amazing_ kiss. Molly's lips were soft, and warmer than I would have expected, almost feverishly hot. There was a moment of shocked stiffness before she started kissing me back, and…

Stars and stones. It was _electric._ I felt as if lightning shot straight down every single nerve in my body, sending sparks from head to toe. My heart rate was already elevated from the fight; this made it skyrocket, pounding in my chest like it was about to burst through my ribs.

 _Yes,_ snarled a voice inside my head that was mostly—but not entirely—driven by Winter's hunger. _This is how it should be. You've earned this prize in blood and combat. Seize it, take her!_

I shuddered, overwhelmed by the mantle's urges, the sweet taste of Molly on my tongue, the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears. For a brief moment, all I knew was that this felt…

It felt so _right_.

But, distantly, I knew it wasn't. It felt absolutely natural, as if _not_ kissing Molly was unthinkable... but in my experience, the biggest temptations often feel that way. Feelingright and _being_ right are two completely different things.

 _Molly._

It took an enormous effort to tear myself away. I clenched my fists at my sides and took a deep breath, forcing back the Winter mantle and my own arousal. For a few seconds, I couldn't bring myself to look at her, feeling profoundly ashamed beneath the rest of my raging emotions. _What the hell, Harry?_ I thought. _Where did that come from?_

"I'm sorry," I said roughly. "Jesus, Molly, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Molly didn't say anything, and I finally looked up. She stared at me with wide blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, and there was a look on her face... a mix of shock, and joy, and something like the horrified disbelief I would expect if she'd seen me kick a puppy.

I felt a little sick. Hell's bells, what had I _done_?

"Oh my God, Harry," she said finally, with a hint of desperate laughter in her voice. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment, she pushed her disheveled hair back from her face and looked at me again. "I still have a job to do, and this isn't the time or place for a conversation. Let's just keep moving. We'll talk about it later."

"Uh, right." I cleared my throat, desperately tried to think of something else to say, and lamely repeated myself instead. "Right."

We still had a good two hours' walk to go. I don't think I've ever spent a more awkward couple of hours in my whole life. Molly appeared serious about not having a conversation—at all. For once, I kept my own mouth shut, too. We walked in silence, with a thick tension between us that had never been there before.

My mind raced, though, searching my memory for an explanation of what had made me do such a thing, or for a hint that I'd failed to see. It had to be the mantle, and I had to be better at keeping those urges in check. Maybe I could have prevented myself from assaulting my former apprentice if I'd been paying better attention to Winter's hold on me. There had to be _something,_ some warning sign I'd missed…

 _Molly's birthday party in Faerie was apparently going a lot better than mine had. Of course, I showed up late, and it was probably my absence that had made most of the difference. Normal mortal parties don't appeal much to me; parties full of insane, deadly-beautiful Sidhe are_ really _not my thing._

 _By the time I arrived, things were already starting to... devolve, as they tend to do. Most of the assorted Sidhe and other creatures filled the courtyard of Arctis Tor under multicolored lights, whirling and undulating with inhuman, lovely grace. Around the fringes of the floor, the dancers had moved on to other things that were either blatantly sexual, or graphically violent, or both. All of them were intriguing, making the Winter hunger begin to stir inside me. I tamped it down as I entered the courtyard, and I made sure to keep my gaze moving as I walked. It would be far too easy to get distracted by what was going on around the courtyard perimeter._

 _Like everything else, the Sidhe take rave music to the extreme. I could feel the bass throbbing through every inch of my body, it was so loud. Mab was not in attendance, but I could see Molly as I approached a low dais. She sat on a white chair that looked like wicker, but probably wasn't. A small group of Sidhe clustered around her, just the sort of supernaturally lovely entourage that should attend the youngest Queen of Winter. I couldn't hear any conversation over the pounding music, but it looked as if Molly were having a good time._

 _Actually, she looked great. Her light blond hair hung in a long braid that trailed over one shoulder, reminding me of Maggie's favorite Disney princess. Molly's hair, though, had pale blue highlights streaked through it, and her braid was studded with sparkling, white gems. She wore a dress that reminded me of champagne: the same pale, almost-peach color and the same amount of sparkle. The dress clung in all the best places, and it was complemented by white leather boots that went nearly up to her knees. The tall shoes emphasized just how much of her long, toned legs were still exposed by the short hem of her dress._

 _Hey... I'm not blind, okay?_

 _One of her companions, a Sidhe lord with ridiculously defined abs and an apparent allergy to shirts, leaned over the back of Molly's chair to murmur something in her ear. His hands rested on Molly's shoulders, and there was something possessive in the way he bent over her, his lips even closer to her ear than the noise level of the party required. Without warning, a surge of jealousy erupted in me, fueled by the Winter mantle's fierce desire for a fight. The Winter Lady was_ mine _—my_ _apprentice, my territory, my prey—and this asshole had just made himself a target. I needed to make an example of him, show the entire court what happened to anyone who tried to move in on my—_

 _Molly's eyes went wide, and she snapped her head towards me. Her eyes were very bright, very blue, and I nearly stumbled. Hell's bells... she'd sensed that rush of possessive fury._

Where the hell did that come from? _I wondered. I'd been getting better at keeping my Winter instincts under control, but they had taken me completely off guard this time. Molly's companions, including Mr. Washboard, all turned to follow her gaze. I fought back the urgent need to smash someone's face, forced my fists to unclench, and kept moving forward, closing the last few steps as if nothing had happened._

 _"My Lady," I shouted over the din. Seriously, at that volume, you couldn't even call it music anymore. "Please excuse my tardiness and allow me to extend my best wishes for the anniversary of your birth."_

 _She raised her eyebrows, amused by my formality. She dismissed her companions with a few words, and they moved away, melting into the crowd. I caught myself tracking Washboard Abs with a glare, and made myself turn back to Molly. She leaned back a little in her chair, watching me._

 _I gave her a grin. "Happy birthday, Grasshopper. You look great."_

 _"I know," she mouthed pointedly, with a tiny smile. Oh, she had definitely felt that spike of jealousy, and she wasn't likely to forget it, either. But then her smile widened, and she suddenly looked again like the Molly I remembered, the mortal one. "Dance with me?"_

 _"Uh... Dance to what?" I half-shouted over the throbbing noise that filled the space. I was kind of surprised that the walls of the fortress hadn't started crumbling yet._

 _Molly flickered the fingers of one hand, murmuring something, and abruptly the noise was gone, though my ears still rang a little. In its place, there was a soft waltz playing. It came from everywhere, but barely audible, as if I wore headphones with the volume turned way down. I blinked, and glanced over my shoulder. The writhing mass of faeries on the dance floor hadn't reacted to the change of music._

 _"Just us," Molly said quietly. I turned back to her, impressed. It was simple enough to seal off a conversation against eavesdropping, though I could never do it without making everyone's voices sound weirdly modulated. But this was on a whole other level: Molly had shut out the noise, brought in her own music,_ and _kept the voices normal, all as easily as she might light a candle._

 _I bowed gallantly and held out a hand. "Will you favor me with a dance, my Lady?"_

 _She rolled her eyes as she stood and took my hand. "Thank you for coming, Harry," she murmured, as we began. "It's, um... nice to see somebody normal."_

 _I snorted. "Who, me? You're kidding, right?"_

 _"Oh, you know what I mean."_

 _Apparently her auditory spell was a physical barrier, too; we moved through the crowd as if in an impenetrable bubble. The dance floor around us was a blur of colored lights and vividly-hued bodies, moving in time to an inaudible beat, but none of them came near us. I studied her as we spun for a few steps, following the soft strains of her illusory waltz. There was a hint of tension, a hidden darkness, in her features. She hid it well, but I knew her too well to be fooled. "Molls," I said quietly. "How are you doing with all of this? I mean, you've been through a lot, and I can't imagine being the Winter Lady is any easier than…"_

 _"Than being the Ragged Lady?" Molly finished. Her wry smile didn't reach her eyes. "Heck no, it isn't easier. But Auntie Lea prepared me well, and I'm learning."_

 _"And doing a good job, from what I hear," I said. She blushed a little, faint pink spots appearing on her cheeks._

 _"I suppose," she murmured._ _We passed under the Sidhe equivalent of a disco ball; rainbow-colored light glittered on the gems in Molly's hair, on her clingy metallic dress. I saw t_ _hat dark tension in her expression flicker a bit stronger, and her grip tightened on my hand. "I hate it here," she blurted out, then added, "No, I don't actually hate it. But I'm sick of it. Sick of the cold and the ice and constantly watching my back, never able to trust anyone. Except you," she finished, glancing up at me._

 _"I hear you," I said sincerely. "This place can get to you after a while. Maybe we need a vacation, huh?"_

 _She smiled half-heartedly at the remark, but I realized as I said it that it was exactly what we needed. "Seriously," I continued. "Someplace warm and tropical, as far away from Winter as we can get. No fighting, no faeries, just lots of sunshine and drinks with little umbrellas in them. What do you say, Molls?"_

 _"Sounds nice... But I don't know if it will help. Harry, I don't like it here, but I'm…" Her voice trembled a little, and she looked away. "I'm worried that I'm fitting in_ _too easily_ _."_

Oh, Molly _, I thought, my heart going out to her._ _That was a struggle I knew all too well._

 _She went on, "Sometimes... I can feel myself slipping. I have these thoughts, and they aren't_ _mine_ _, but I think them anyway, and it's getting harder and harder to distinguish what's_ _me_ _from what's Winter. I'm starting to think like one of_ them _, and it scares the crap out of me._

 _"Harry, you haven't changed, not really. How are you able to..." she took a deep, unsteady breath. "To hold on to yourself?"_

 _We were near the edge of the dance floor; I stopped and ushered Molly a few steps sideways, to the empty space beside a giant evergreen tree. "It's tough," I admitted. "But it does get a little easier. And you have the most important part down already: you don't_ _want_ _to change. If you didn't care at all, Maeve 2.0 would already be causing havoc. But you_ _do_ _care, and you're still Molly Carpenter, and you will still be_ you _for as long as you choose to be."_

 _Molly looked away. "I've... never been good at making choices."_

 _"Bullshit," I said, and her eyes darted back to mine, surprised._

 _"Everyone makes bad choices when they're young, Molls. That's part of growing up. And maybe yours had more severe consequences than most. But you've also made choices that saved peoples' lives; you've chosen to use your power to do the right thing, to make a difference._ _Everything you've ever chosen has made you who you are, and this is no different._

 _"Molls... I know you didn't choose to become the Winter Lady. If there was a way I could undo it, I would. But you have a choice_ now _._ _You can take the easy way out, let Winter guide your thoughts and shape you into New Maeve…. Or you can continue to be Molly Carpenter, choosing every day to be yourself instead of Winter's puppet. It won't be easy. Some days, it'll be very hard to remember why it's so important to be human. But you've got this, Molly, I know it."_

 _She was silent for a few moments. "You really think so?"_

 _"Trust me. Have I ever asked you to do something that you couldn't handle?"_

 _"All the time, boss," she said wryly._

 _"Well, maybe at first," I admitted. "But you took every challenge I ever gave you, and ran with it. You never gave up until you managed to exceed my expectations. There's no reason this should be any different."_

 _Molly thought about that. When she met my eyes again, she was smiling a little._

 _"Thank you, Harry. That's... exactly what I needed to hear, I think."_

 _"We're in this together, Grasshopper," I told her, smiling back._

 _She flung her arms around my neck, and I hugged her in return. I think we both needed it. I'd been keeping myself so distant from everyone, afraid to endanger my friends, that I couldn't remember the last time I'd embraced anyone. Winter was a harsh place, and so was Demonreach, where I spent most of my time. Simple comforts like the physical connection of a hug had been hard to come by, lately. I found myself clinging to her more tightly than I should have. She was lean and warm in my arms, and her hair smelled like flowers. I was suddenly very aware of her curves pressed against me, and I had to make a conscious effort not to let my hands start wandering._

 _Dammit. It's a huge pain in the ass when your body wants to do things all on its own. Bearing this damn mantle was like being a teenager again, only about a hundred times worse. And it was starting to sneak up on me more and more, despite my determination to keep it under control. I pushed the primal urges away, hoping Molly hadn't sensed anything this time._

 _If she had, she didn't react. I kissed the top of her head gently. "Happy birthday, Grasshopper," I murmured, and stepped away. "Go and enjoy your party. Just give the word when you're ready for that vacation."_

 _She smiled brightly, summoning her Winter Lady charm again. It still didn't reach her eyes, but some of her tension had eased. "Thanks, boss," she said. "I will."_

Walking through the Nevernever at Molly's side, I mulled over the night of her birthday celebration, just a few weeks earlier. Things like that unexpected surge of jealous rage happened often, since the Knight's mantle was prone to triggering those sorts of exaggerated, alpha-male reactions. But I'd already been on guard against Winter's outbursts, after glimpsing the craziness around the edges of the dance floor. So how had that furious jealousy caught me by surprise? And later, when part of me had wanted much more than just a hug, I had blamed it on the mantle, but…

Maybe it hadn't come from the mantle. If I'd already been holding Winter under control, then it had been all me. _That_ was something I hadn't expected, hadn't known to be vigilant for.

The thought made my mouth go dry. This was _Molly,_ for God's sake... I'd known her since she'd had braces and pimples. Yes, she'd grown into a gorgeous young woman, but that was no reason to suddenly make me act like a caveman. I'd been her teacher, her mentor; I never wanted more than that. _So what the hell is going on, Harry?_

Striding alongside Molly in silence, I had plenty of time to consider that question. I realized just how much Molly had changed in my eyes since becoming the Winter Lady. She hadn't just grown up in age, but also in her abilities, in her attitude, in her bearing. Calm and confident, she handled her interactions with the fae with both grace and authority. She wasn't afraid to demonstrate that authority when necessary, either. I'd seen her rebuild relations with estranged members of Winter as smoothly as any diplomat. I'd seen her control vast, intricate illusion spells with the same flawless confidence as a conductor with an orchestra. I'd seen her struggle with the same Winter urges that I shared, and I'd seen her triumph over them, too.

Molly had matured, carrying herself with a strength and confidence that suited her well. I suppose getting handed the power of an immortal Sidhe queen will do that to you. And though I hadn't realized it until now, I'd come to see her as a peer. As lonely and isolated as I'd been lately, that could be enough to start my brain—and glands—down a path I hadn't consciously chosen to follow. Add it to my perfect storm of Winter lust and post-battle adrenaline, and you could almostexcuse that impulsive kiss.

 _Almost_ , but not quite. By the time we reached our destination, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself, but I had to set it aside for a bit longer. It was time to play the intimidating, dangerous Winter Knight, not the embarrassed, awkward wizard who couldn't believe what he'd done to his former apprentice.

Fortunately, the Winter Knight's presence was not really needed. The Rokurokubi family was a large clan of Winter fae that still adhered closely to Japanese traditions as well as faerie ones. While they were not overly excited to see the Winter Lady (few of the faeries ever were, for some reason), they offered us their hospitality. Molly went to talk to the family heads and take care of her mysterious business, leaving me to explore. I wandered around the sprawling house for a while, half worried that I would trip and fall through one of the delicate wood-and-paper screens dividing the rooms.

Or set them on fire somehow. Hell's bells, this building could go up like a tinderbox. Maybe _I_ was the one they were reluctant to welcome into their home.

The meeting ended that afternoon, with arrangements for Molly to return in a week's time to complete her business with the fae. We were escorted off the grounds, and found ourselves on the crowded streets of Tokyo, which seemed worlds away from the Rokurokubi's walled gardens. "Come on," Molly said, nodding towards a noodle stand across the street. "I'm starving."

We bought a couple orders of noodles and walked a block or so to a nearby park, where we found a bench in the shade of a massive tree. I let Molly sit first, and I made a point of sitting at the opposite end, as far from her as I could. More awkwardness ensued. We ate in silence, and Molly wouldn't look at me, staring straight ahead at the passers-by. Since I had already done enough damage, I didn't say anything, and the silence stretched unbearably until we finished eating.

Finally, Molly set aside her empty bowl and looked sideways at me.

"Soooooo..." she said slowly.

I grimaced. "Molls, I'm so incredibly sorry about... about earlier. That was totally unacceptable, and—"

"Don't apologize, Harry. That's just making it worse."

More awkward silence. She stared at the ground, her fingertips fiddling nervously with each other. When no further explanation seemed forthcoming, I said softly, "I don't understand."

"I _know_ you don't," she blurted, suddenly clenching her fists. "You have no idea how much I just want to climb into your lap and kiss you again—" she stopped, cheeks flushing pink.

I fought back a treacherous mental image of Molly sliding across the bench to close the distance between us, straddling my lap and— _Come on, H_ _arry, that's not helping._

"Why don't you?" I asked, without thinking.

Molly shot me a look, and I realized belatedly how bad that sounded.

"Not like _that!_ " I amended hastily. "I mean—I'm seriously asking. I can't read your mind, Molls. I'm just trying to get a handle on what's going on here."

She sighed, and drew her feet up onto the bench, hugging her knees. "I can't tell you, Harry. Seriously. The mantle won't let me say it. Every time I tr—" her voice cut off mid-word, and she gave me a look that said, _See what I mean?_

"Okay." I thought for a moment, watching the passersby. This wasn't the first time I'd had to play word games with a member of the Sidhe courts. "Hypothetically—"

She stopped me with a wordless shake of her head; apparently even that loophole wasn't going to work. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, as if she were testing out her next words. "Remember," she said finally, with caution in her voice, "what Maeve was like?"

Maeve, the former Winter Lady, Mab's daughter, had been fucking terrifying. Literally. Sex-crazed and Sidhe-gorgeous; dripping with lust and sexuality and a malice that meant anyone dumb enough to fall for her charms would meet a gruesome end. I couldn't think of anyone less like her than her successor.

"You're not Maeve," I said firmly. "You're better than that, Molly."

She seemed to tremble with effort, before forcing her next words out between clenched teeth. "But the Lady isn't."

It took a moment for that to sink in, and to raise some uncomfortable questions.

Such as, how much of Maeve's murderous sex-kitten vibe had been due to the mantle she carried, and not her actual personality?

When Molly spoke again, I could barely hear her. "Since I was seventeen, I would have given anything for you to kiss me like that, Harry. I would have done anything to see you look at me that way. This could have happened _years_ ago, and now... _now_?" She buried her face against her knees. "Dammit. Dammit, Harry," she said, muffled.

I looked at her helplessly. _I'm so sorry,_ I wanted to say, because I was. Sorry that I'd kissed her and stirred up this mess, sorry for the burdens she had to carry. Sorry for everything I'd done that had led to this, with Winter under her skin, twisting her into something she wasn't, something she couldn't even explain. But she didn't want to hear my apologies. Hell's bells, even giving her a comforting hug seemed like a terrible idea right then.

Molly drew another deep breath, straightening up. "I think it'll be best if I just head back alone tonight," she said flatly. "I need some space."

"Molls…"

She shook her head and got to her feet, looked down at me for a long moment. "I know you still don't understand," she said, more gently. "You should… you should talk to Carlos."

I blinked; she was giving me an intent, piercing look. "I will," I promised.

She nodded and strode away. After a few steps she paused, looking over her shoulder. "Harry… it was worth it." The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Despite it all."

The memory of that stolen kiss washed over me, as vivid as if it had been mere moments ago, and I knew what she meant. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and watched her go, with an ache in my heart that I had never expected to be associated with my apprentice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Shorter chapter this time... but next one will make up for it! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed so far!

* * *

I returned to Arctis Tor a few days later than Molly, after I paid a visit to Warden Ramírez.

That visit had been… enlightening.

I heard that Molly had returned safely, but I didn't go looking for her. She needed space, and I suppose I did too. I needed to think. I was starting to piece together a better picture of Molly's struggle, and I still wasn't sure how to process what had happened between us. I spent a week or two at Demonreach, camping in my little cabin, trying to sort out the feelings that had crept up on me recently.

I didn't have much success.

Then Mab summoned me for an errand, and I almost welcomed it, happy to have a distraction. After that was taken care of, the Wardens needed me at a meeting in Dallas, and then life went on pretty much like usual, except that I saw Molly even less often than I had before. I tried not to think about what had happened on the way to Japan, because it was all too easy to remember how good Molly had felt in my arms, and I couldn't afford that distraction.

But sometimes, I couldn't help remembering. Especially on the few occasions we saw each other in Arctis Tor, glimpsed across a courtyard or encountered in a hall. When that happened, Molly would flinch, and walk past me with a polite nod, avoiding my eyes. I would watch her go, all those emotions stirred up once again—my admiration for her, my regret for getting her tangled up in Winter, the possessiveness that I couldn't fully blame on the mantle, my helpless anger that I could do nothing to free her from this fate, and yes, the attraction that I finally admitted had been forming for years. But I never went after her. It was obvious that she was avoiding me, and I couldn't blame her. I blamed myself.

Weeks passed. I missed her, but I grew resigned to the new dynamic of our relationship, or what was left of it. Until one evening, when Molly knocked softly on the door to my Winter suite.

I opened the door and blinked at her. She was wearing silvery jeans, a white t-shirt, and some sort of coat that was like a hybrid of a medieval cloak and a modern hoodie. It was a pure cobalt blue, and it made her eyes look as blue and as deep as the sea. She was the last person I had expected to see outside my door.

"Hi, Harry," she said, with a small smile. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Grasshopper," I said, unable to hold back a grin. Stars and stones, it was good to see her without her flinching away. I let her into my suite, and she settled onto a chair, folding her hands into the loose sleeves of her hoodie.

"I'm sorry," she said, when I had sat down across from her. "I didn't want to ignore you these last few weeks, but I needed time to process some things."

"I understand," I said gently. "And I'm sorry too, Molls. I wish…" Feeling awkward, I spread my hands. "I wish things could be different."

She was silent for a moment, her expression serious. "Do you really?" She asked softly. "If things _could_ be different, what would you do?"

I blinked. All those weeks I had spent trying to forget how I felt… they went down the drain with that little question. I pushed away the images that invaded my head, gave her a lopsided smile. "You want the PG version, or…?"

Molly's eyes sparkled, though she didn't say anything.

I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a long breath. "What do you want me to say, Molls?" I asked. "That my feelings for you have changed—that I _have_ feelings for you? That I wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize it? It's true. Does any of that make things better? Or worse?"

She still didn't smile, but an undisguised joy shone in her eyes now. "Better, actually," she murmured.

I frowned at her. I was still trying to think past the hungry thoughts that her question had aroused, and being thoroughly confused by her response didn't help.

Molly took a deep breath. "Harry, do you… Do you remember the last time you couldn't sleep with a woman without her killing you?"

Words don't usually fail me, but they did then. I stared at her stupidly, replaying the question in my mind to make sure I'd heard it right. It was a random thing to ask, an absurd collection of words, and I almost laughed.

Then the laugh died, because I _did_ remember, suddenly, something I hadn't thought about in years. Before the Winter mantles, before Chichén Itzá, years before I'd even taken her as an apprentice, fourteen-year-old Molly had found me in the Carpenters' backyard treehouse. Things had gone downhill in a hurry, and I'd been hiding there while I waited for Michael to come home. Susan had been back in town at the time, with that dick Martin, working for the Fellowship of St. Giles and living a constant struggle to control her monstrous instincts.

I'd been sporting a pair of handcuffs, courtesy of Anna Valmont. Molly had helped me out of them, though God only knew why the teen had had a key that worked. And then she'd applied herself to the problem of me and Susan, and how my half-vampire ex-girlfriend couldn't risk losing control by sleeping with me. Not that I'd told Molly anything explicit about my problems, but I hadn't needed to—she'd been disturbingly perceptive for her age.

 _Why don't you tie her up?_ Molly had asked, matter-of-factly. And, as it turned out, I had done just that.

Hell's bells.

That aborted laugh caught in my throat, and I choked. "Molly," I managed to say, and then I _truly_ realized what she was getting at. If the mantle of the Winter Knight bestowed on me superhuman strength and fury, then that of the Winter Lady, youngest Queen of Winter, was exponentially more powerful. It wasn't something that mortal ropes or handcuffs could hope to contain.

But an alternative did exist. Mab had sent me into the Underworld once, working with Nicodemus to raid Hades' vault. To get past some magic-triggered traps in the process, I'd had to wear thorn manacles, the ones that separate the wearer from his magical abilities. It had worked. When the manacles were locked around my wrist, piercing my flesh, I'd been cut off from the Winter mantle as well as my own abilities—just another mortal.

It had also hurt like a son of a bitch. The thought of it made me wince.

"Molls, no," I said softly. "It's not worth the price, not worth the pain. I couldn't bear to do that to you."

She gave me a half-smile and calmly pulled up one loose sleeve of her hoodie. She had put a set of the manacles on herself, both around one wrist. I could see the metal teeth biting into her skin. "I spent months believing I had killed you," she murmured. "This is nothing."

I cursed under my breath, glancing involuntarily at the door to my suite. She had worn those in Arctis Tor, walking around completely vulnerable to any of the Sidhe that would love a shot at the Winter Lady—which was pretty much all of them. She wasn't the Lady now, while she wore those manacles, wasn't even a wizard; just a helpless mortal.

 _Helpless._ My own Winter mantle approved of that thought, and so did an entirely human part of me that I wasn't too proud of.

Molly regarded me patiently, giving no sign of the agony that the manacles caused. That made sense. She'd always been skilled at psychomancy, and her abilities—even nonmagical ones—had only grown since the time my ghost had been inside her head. Even without access to her magic, she would have the mental skills and focus to block out the pain with little effort.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. "You don't know what you're asking, Molls."

She waited until I looked at her again before she replied. "Yes, I do," she said. "I can't feel you now, Harry, but I've spent years sensing your thoughts when you looked at me. And I've felt how they changed, even the thoughts you're not aware of having. I know how hard you cling to the belief that I'm an innocent, untouchable little girl, because you think that will stop you from doing something terrible. And I also know how badly you want to believe that I'm a grown woman who can make her own choices. I felt that struggle inside you after we kissed, and I… I could feel you _during_ that kiss. I know how right it felt, and I know how that scares you, and I know _why._

"But we don't need to be frightened of this. I _do_ know what I'm asking: for you to understand that circumstances, and people, change. I'm not that little girl anymore. And I'm asking you to trust me on that."

I felt my face flush. "It's not that simple," I began.

"Yes, it is," she said calmly, hands still folded in her lap, the thorn manacles glinting in the dim candlelight. "People grow up, Harry. We both have. And I think our kiss was proof of that. As much as I wish it, that _couldn't_ have happened years ago, not between who we used to be. But neither of us is the same person we were on that night when you bailed me out of jail."

That, I realized, was true. Teenage Molly had knelt naked at my feet in a heartbreakingly innocent attempt at seducing me, on her first night as my apprentice. I almost couldn't reconcile that memory with the woman she had become, it was so far removed from who she was now.

And Molly wasn't the only one who had grown a lot since that night. We had both been through so much… I wasn't the same man I had been, either. But that didn't give me the right to cross the line that I'd drawn back then. This was exactly the sort of slippery slope that I had spent my adult life trying not to slide down.

Molly leaned forward, and when she spoke, a world of emotion filled her voice: understanding, compassion, and far more wisdom than the younger Molly could ever have had. "It's okay for you to want this, Harry," she said gently. "It's okay for you to want _me_. It doesn't make you a monster."

Even now, unable to sense me, she knew how I would feel. "You're right," I said. "It doesn't. And… I do want you." It felt strange to give voice to it, after having only admitted it to myself a few weeks ago. It sounded strange, too; the words came out low and rough. "But that's not the issue. People can't help what they want… but they can choose what they _do_. I'm not a monster for being attracted to you, no. But what does it make me I if I act on it?"

"It makes you human, Harry," she whispered.

In retrospect, I don't know what other answer she could have given. And maybe I was looking unconsciously for that very response. In the moment, though, I only knew that those words finally cut through the last of my reluctance. Molly was right, in more ways than she knew. This was the most natural, normal, _human_ attraction I'd had to a woman in years. This wasn't my Winter hunger—not _really_ —or Lasciel's shadow, or White Court seduction, or any other magical temptation that fueled my desire. This wasn't some evil trick, or a new version of Maeve's vicious sexuality. Hell, it wasn't even Molly's own psychomancy, not with the manacles around her wrist. This was just…

Molly. Beautiful, kind, fierce, vulnerable, powerful, dangerous Molly. I stared at her, with the weight of all our history behind her quiet gaze. She'd been in love with me for years, and I had always dismissed it as a schoolgirl crush, something she would grow out of eventually.

But she hadn't. I could see it still. If anything, I realized suddenly, she had grown _into_ it—her girlish infatuation developing into something deeper, quieter, and more mature.

And I loved her—I had never denied that. She was like family, or maybe even more than that. I knew her more intimately than almost anyone; I knew what her soul looked like, and she had seen mine. We had been through too much together for me not to love her. But I had never been _in love_ with her.

Had that changed, along with everything else in my life lately?

Was I in love with Molly?

For the first time ever, I didn't know the answer to that question.

She'd been quiet while I processed all that. Now, Molly unfolded herself from her chair and moved closer. Slowly, as if waiting for me to push her away, she knelt on the couch, long legs straddling my thighs, still holding my gaze. I couldn't remember ever being so intimately close to her before. I could smell her scent, like flowers and the cool, fresh air of a winter morning. I sat motionless, afraid to touch her, afraid that once I did, I wouldn't be able to stop.

"Molly," I breathed into the silence. It wasn't a protest, just a vocalization of the enormity of what she was doing. What _we_ were doing.

She acknowledged it with a nod, her eyes wide. The moment stretched on, balanced on a knife-edge, while my body screamed at me to do something, and my instincts told me to wait.

Molly raised her hands to cup my face, running her thumbs over the stubble on my chin. The touch and scent and sight of her, tantalizingly close, were more intoxicating than any drug. Stars and stones, I wanted so badly to taste her again. The memory of that single stolen kiss surged into my awareness as she lowered her head toward mine—

A new thought chose that moment to break through my paralysis, and I brought one hand up, pressed my finger against her lips. "What," I began, and then my voice failed me as Molly drew the tip of my finger into her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue curled around me, and I fought back a sudden wave of blind, raging desire. I don't know exactly how much of it was mine and how much was the mantle.

 _Hell's bells._ I shoved Winter away, locking it back into its mental corner, then cleared my throat and tried again. My voice might have cracked a little. "What happens to the mantle, if we do this?"

Unhurried, she sucked a bit harder on my fingertip before pulling away. "I don't really know," she admitted. "Maybe nothing. Maybe it's fine as long as I have the manacles on. Or maybe it passes to the next available vessel. It's not like I could ask Mab."

Well, shit.

The smart thing would have been to wait until we knew for sure. There were ways to learn that sort of thing without asking Mab, though they always came at a price. But my capacity for rational thought was somewhat diminished right then, and the smart option wasn't even on the radar.

"So … we probably don't want to be in the heart of Winter territory when whatever happens, happens," I pointed out.

"Guess not," Molly agreed, with a wry smile. "What do you suggest?"

I _wanted_ to suggest that she go back to sucking on my finger and see what happened from there, but that would have to wait. At my urging, she slid off my lap, and I stood up, feeling a little lightheaded. "I promised you a vacation, didn't I?" I asked, and shot her a grin. "Did you know Thomas has a condo in the Bahamas?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** apologies for taking so long to post this one! There will be a fourth and final chapter after this one. Thanks for reading!

Thankfully, the trip through the Ways was a short one. Molly interlaced her fingers with mine and said nothing, but I could feel her nervous excitement in the way she gripped my hand. Our last journey together had been spent in awkward, embarrassed silence; this was a different kind of silence, so charged with sexual energy that I was afraid speech would set it alight. So I kept silent, until we reached the exit point where the Nevernever matched up with the beach outside Thomas' condo. Then I opened the portal to the real world, and my plan of treating Molly to a glorious sunset on the beach went down in flames.

"Oh, come _on!"_ I exclaimed, peering through the gateway at the pouring rain. It wasn't just a little drizzle; this was a full-on downpour, churning the fine sand of the beach into a goopy mess.

Molly let out a high, delighted laugh, and darted into the rain. Grimacing, I followed, getting immediately drenched. I barely made it through the portal before the rain grounded out the spell and it blinked out of existence. Molly let out a _whoop_ at the cold of the water, then turned her face to the sky, letting the rain stream over her face, arms spread wide. Then she turned and pushed her sodden hair out of her eyes to grin at me.

I grinned back, glad to see the genuine joy in her expression. It had been too long since I'd seen her so happy or carefree. I opened my mouth to speak, and then lightning speared across the sky overhead, illuminating the dim beach. Thunder cracked, painfully loud, even before the lightning had faded.

"Holy crap!" Molly yelped, laughing.

I slogged through the sand to her side. "Let's get inside," I called over the thunder's rolling echoes. "That one." I pointed to Thomas' place, an eight-story condo building of white concrete and curved glass balconies, set back beyond the grassy dunes that edged the beach.

We stumbled into the building's lobby, Molly still breathless with laughter, just as the wind was beginning to pick up. I nodded to the doorman and tried to look like I belonged there. I'd only visited once, to tour the place and set up some wards for Thomas after he bought it, and I hoped I could remember where his unit was. I also hoped he wasn't here for the weekend, or things were about to get awkward.

After a couple wrong turns, we found the right door and stood dripping onto the fancy hardwood floor while I released the magical protections on the condo. It didn't seem like my brother had been there in a while. I let Molly inside, and then we stood dripping onto _that_ floor while I replaced the wards, adding a few extras for good measure.

When I finished, I turned to Molly. She was gazing around the condo, taking in the expensive furnishings, the big windows, and the killer ocean views. Outside, the storm had intensified; lightning flickered almost constantly, and the rain pounded unrelenting against the windows. The sun had set already, leaving only a fading, stormy twilight to illuminate the room. I didn't bother turning on the lights; my last visit had proven that the wiring wasn't very wizard-friendly.

In the dimness, Molly looked at me, suddenly serious again. Then she shivered.

"You must be freezing," I murmured. "Hang on, Molls." I went in search of towels, found a few massively fluffy ones in a hall closet, and returned to find Molly shrugging out of her sodden blue hoodie. She dropped it on the floor and made an annoyed sound in her throat.

"So much for the surprise," she said wryly, looking down at herself. I looked, too, and my brain stopped working for a second.

Despite the hoodie, she'd gotten completely drenched. Her white t-shirt had been modest before, but had gone translucent with the soaking. Now it clung to the planes of her abdomen, the curves of her hips, like a second skin. It did absolutely nothing to hide the cobalt blue lace bra that cupped her breasts.

And yes… she was cold.

"Totally worth it, though," she murmured, watching my expression. I'm pretty sure I was drooling a little.

I swallowed hard, desperately keeping a mental lockdown on the Winter mantle. Not trusting my voice, I wordlessly wrapped a towel around her and dried her in my arms, rubbing briskly. I could feel her silent gaze on me as I worked, but I didn't meet her eyes until I finished, when she'd stopped shivering.

"Better?" I asked softly.

She nodded. I dropped the towel and rested my hands on her waist; she laced her fingers behind my neck. While rain drummed against the glass and thunder growled, we stood hesitant in the dimness. I swear, I could almost _hear_ her heart pounding—or maybe it was my own.

"I can't sense you," she whispered. "Tell me what you're feeling, Harry."

"Uh," I said, intelligently. "A little nervous, actually."

"Oh, good…So it's not just me, then."

I smiled, my thumbs caressing circles in the hollows of her waist. "Nope."

"This… this will change things, won't it?"

I let out a long breath. It _would_ change things— between the two of us, obviously, but there was more to it, too. Nothing happens in a vacuum. There would be ramifications in the future that neither of us could anticipate.

But… the whole world was changing. Nothing could stay the same forever.

"Changes aren't always bad," I murmured.

"Well, then," she said. One corner of her mouth quirked in a smile. "Are you ready?"

In answer, I eased forward, closing the last inches between us to press my lips against hers.

If the storm outside had chosen that instant to send a palm tree crashing through the window, I wouldn't even have noticed. Molly flooded into my senses like light into a dark room: the feel and scent of her, the sound of her sharply indrawn breath, the sweet taste of her mouth on mine. She kissed me back, twining her fingers in my damp hair.

We kept it slow, deliberate, with a wordless agreement that we had waited too long for this to rush it. My hands moved almost on their own, sliding down to grasp her hips and pull her closer.

Then Molly moaned into my mouth, a sound that seared straight through me. Our slow kiss abruptly became something else entirely, hungry and rough. My hands roamed over her, reveling in the feel of her flesh pressed against me; I couldn't even let go long enough to shrug out of my shirt as she unbuttoned it. She wrapped one leg around me, stretched up on the toes of her other foot. I obliged, lifting her off her feet, pushing her back against the wall hard enough to rattle the door in its frame. Then, with my hands cupped under her thighs, still kissing her, I backed towards the living room while she clung to me.

That's a great maneuver in the movies. As it turns out, it's not so great in a dark, unfamiliar living room that's filled with expensive and breakable things. My heel caught the leg of an end table or something, making both of us wobble. I tried to take a step sideways, hit the arm of the couch instead, and promptly dropped the both of us onto it. At the same time, that unseen table hit the floor, and whatever had been on it—a lamp? A vase?— shattered into what sounded like a bajillion pieces. Oops.

On the other hand, I ended up mostly horizontal, sprawled crookedly on the couch with Molly stretched across my chest, so that was a plus.

She burst into laughter. "Smooth, boss," she teased, with a glance back toward the mess. "Did you mean to do that?"

"All part of the plan, Grasshopper," I grinned at her, tapping my temple to indicate my wizardly foresight.

I think we both realized at the same moment what we had just said. We stared at each other, trying to decide if accidentally calling each other by those nicknames, here and now _,_ qualified as an awkward moment. My instincts told me that it was creepy and weird, but apparently my mouth hadn't gotten the memo.

"I guess old habits die hard, huh?" She said finally, with a tiny smile.

"Yeah…"

Her smile widened mischievously. "I don't mind if you don't, _boss,_ " she murmured, wriggling against me. That little wriggle drove my reply right out of my head, and I forgot to think about whether I wanted her to keep calling me that.

We kissed, starting out slow, again, but it didn't stay that way for long. I didn't have a thought in my head except that I needed to feel as much of her body against mine as I could, _right_ _now._ That led to a couple more clumsy maneuvers—I think we would have fallen completely off the couch if the coffee table hadn't been nearby to catch us—but she didn't laugh this time, just as desperate for the contact as I was. We stumbled across the room, barely able to get onto our feet, knocking over more furniture on the way and too engrossed in each other to notice.

Amid all that, the Winter mantle roared back into control. Molly was _mine_ now, and I had waited _so long_ for this... Again, like that first kiss, it felt _right_ , to both my normal self and my Winter side; and that made it really, really hard to keep Winter under control. I longed to claw the clothes off her body, sink my teeth into her flesh; I wanted to do terrible things to her, to overpower her and bend her over and revel in her screams as I forced myself inside and—

The wet cloth of her shirt ripped like paper under my hands, and she gave a startled squeak against my mouth. With a gasp, I tore myself away from the kiss. My own self surfaced again, half-drowned, from beneath Winter's furious lust. We'd almost made it to the hallway; I had her trapped against the wall, pinned beneath my lower body, the shreds of her shirt clenched in my fists. Hell's bells, I wanted desperately, ravenously, to fuck her right there against the wall, whether she wanted it or not. I hung onto my control by my fingernails, while the Winter mantle snarled hungrily in the background, waiting.

Molly stayed motionless, silent except for her rapid breath, watching me. She knew the internal struggle I faced, and was giving me the space to handle it. Standing there unmoving, though, she reminded me of a prey animal, frozen at the sight of a predator, and that wasn't helping.

I braced my fists against the wall and closed my eyes while I wrestled the mantle into submission. I took eight or ten deep, meditative breaths, through gritted teeth, and it was almost comically difficult. With that degree of focus, I could probably ride a unicycle on a tightrope across the Grand Canyon. While playing the bagpipes. But for all that effort, I still didn't trust myself to keep going. There was no way I'd be able to hold the mantle back like this for long, not when I was about to be distracted as all hell.

I grasped Molly's wrist, reached for the catch that would release the manacles.

"No, wait!" Her voice held a rising panic as she tried to jerk her hand away.

"Just one," I reassured her. "I have to, Molls. Do you remember what I told you in the car? When we were trying to track down the Redcap?"

She relaxed a little, understanding now. "Yes," she whispered.

 _I don't think it's ever going to happen. But if it ever does, the first time damned well isn't going to be like that. You deserve better. So do I._

"Harry," she pointed out in a soft voice, as I loosened one of the manacles from her wrist. "You can't hurt me, you know. Literally. I'll be fine."

I had forgotten that part. But that wasn't really the point. "The Winter Knight doesn't get to have you, Molly Carpenter," I whispered hoarsely. "You are _mine_."

Her mouth worked for a moment. "Okay," she finally managed to say. "Um, wow. It's even hotter to hear you say that in person than I imagined."

I winked at her, then turned my attention to the manacles and drew a deep breath. I wasn't nearly as good with the mind stuff as she was, but I'd had a lifetime's practice at dealing with pain. I had managed all right the last time I'd put these on. Of course, I hadn't been about to get laid then. I could only hope my brain would be able to handle both things at once.

"Hang on," Molly said, amused. "Maybe we should, um… get situated first."

I had to admit, it would be tough to get undressed when our wrists were chained together. "Heh," I replied. "Glad one of us is thinking." I stepped back and extended one arm towards the hallway. "Ladies first."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Are you just trying to check me out?"

"God, yes," I replied fervently, making her laugh. She turned and headed down the hall, and I followed

as closely as I trusted myself to get, which was about six feet back.

We found the bedroom—the _guest_ room, because I really didn't want anything to do with my brother's master bedroom—and it was pitch dark, except for the storm's erratic lightning. That was enough to show me Molly shrugging out of her ruined shirt. I followed her example, keeping a mental death grip on the Winter mantle as I left my damp clothes in a heap on the floor.

I felt my way to the bed and sat down on the edge. To my left, a decorative set of glass candleholders glinted; they flared to life with my murmured spell, lending a tiny bit of warm light to the room. Half-naked, Molly froze in the middle of undoing her jeans. She looked at me shyly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She hadn't expected me to _see_ her undress, I guess. Something in my expression must have reassured her, though. I saw her uncertainty fade, replaced by a tiny smile.

"Go on," I told her quietly, my voice rough.

After another heartbeat's hesitation, Molly pushed her jeans and underwear over her hips, stepped clear, and straightened up slowly. Her skin shone golden and gleaming in the candlelight. She'd gained a little weight back since her time on the streets, and it was just enough, just toned enough, to make her look the peak of healthy femininity. She had always had delicious curves, but I had only known it as an impartial observer, the way you just know that water is wet. Those curves had been impossible not to notice, but I had never let myself _indulge_ in the sight.

Now, though, I could stare. And enjoy doing it. And… _Damn_. She was gorgeous.

An absolutely wicked smile transformed her expression, and I realized I'd voiced my appreciation out loud. With her lower lip caught adorably between her teeth, she looked me up and down in return, and that straightforward boldness sent another wave of desire surging through me. Wordlessly, I reached out and caught the empty ring of the manacles that dangled from her wrist, tugged her gently towards me.

I'm proud to say it was only a little more difficult than normal to put up my own mental blocks. Molly waited patiently while I prepared myself for what was coming. After a long silence, I drew a deep breath and closed the manacle around my left wrist.

Blocks or no blocks, the pain hit me like a truck. It wasn't just the reaction of Winter to the manacles' touch, but also the loss of the protection that Winter normally provided against all the aches and pains I've accumulated throughout my life. Altogether, they're probably not much more than any active guy my age might have, the kind of background discomfort that you just learn to live with. But since the mantle had covered them for so long, I'd lost the trick of ignoring those pains, and now they came flooding in all at once. In an instant, I felt like I had aged about forty years.

Gritting my teeth, I reinforced my mental defenses, building up more layers in my mind until the pain faded. I could ignore it easily now, far more easily than I could have ignored the Winter mantle's raging.

"I'm sorry," Molly whispered, gazing down at me sadly. She intertwined the fingers of our chained hands together. "It shouldn't have to be like this."

I knew what she meant… but I stared up at her and couldn't imagine it any other way. Everything we had gone through together—every lesson, every danger, every step that entangled us deeper with Winter—had led us here, to this. And yet, thiswouldn't be happening without the manacles, without a way to keep us human.

I gave her a smile and pulled her a little closer. "It's perfect, Molls," I murmured. "Come here."

She gave a breathless laugh, which turned into a gasp when I ran my free hand up the inside of her thigh. I could feel the tension in her, a nearly imperceptible quiver under my palm, as I moved higher. The quiver became a shudder when I found what I was searching for, slick and hot beneath my fingers.

"Harry," she moaned, her fingers tightening around mine. I slid my fingertips inside her, drawing another shuddering moan from her throat. She bent down to kiss me fiercely, pushing me down onto the bed. I lost myself in that kiss, in the taste of her, in the wet heat between her thighs as my fingers pressed deeper. The storm outside showed no sign of abating, but I barely noticed. Molly had seized all my senses, all my attention; nothing existed except the two of us. I traced my hands and lips over her skin, exploring every curve, and she did the same, as if she were afraid to leave an inch of me untouched. Eventually, I found myself leaning over her, pinning her manacled wrist to the bed, while her other hand rolled a condom down the length of my erection. I looked up to watch the lightning play across her face, and it hit me again: the enormous significance of what was happening. I could see in her eyes the same question that I felt. _Are we really doing this?_

"Jeez," she whispered, smiling in the flickering light. "How much longer are you going to make me wait for this?"

Okay, so maybe it hadn't been the same question. Startled into laughter, I chuckled. "You got somewhere else to be?" I murmured, pressing the tip of my erection against her.

"Dammit, H— _oh…_ " Molly's voice broke into a long moan as I eased into her, and I couldn't help but echo it. That electric first kiss had been nothing compared to this. She gasped as I moved again, finding a slow rhythm, and I let out another groan of my own. _Hell's_ _bells_ …

They say that sex is better when you have a genuine connection with your partner. I mean, obviously, right? And I thought I knew what that felt like, what it meant. Thomas can make fun of my love life all he wants—honestly, porn stars probably have less sex than he does—but I've been around. Hell, this wasn't even the first time I'd slept with a Queen of Faerie.

But nothing in my experience had prepared me to be with Molly Carpenter.

There _was_ a connection between us, something powerful and profound, something I couldn't define then and still don't have the words for. We have a ridiculously complex history together, yes, but it was more than that. Maybe it was the years of unacknowledged sexual tension finally coming to a head. Maybe it was the eye contact, intense and intimate; I couldn't tear my gaze from hers even if I wanted to.

Maybe it was the possibility that I truly had fallen in love with her.

In other circumstances, I would have guessed it was our shared magical abilities that connected us, a metaphysical intercourse even more intimate than what our bodies were doing. Or maybe the ties to the Sidhe that we both carried, each mantle recognizing Winter in the other, reaching out to one of their own. But with the manacles clamped around our wrists, it couldn't be either of those things. It was just…

Just _us,_ being as human as we possibly could, with that connection glowing like a warm light between us. It was a light that was felt rather than seen, but was no less bright or real for being invisible.

She gazed up at me with a mixture of awe and joy. Whatever this connection was between us, she felt it too. "Oh my God, Harry…" Her voice dissolved into soft, wordless cries of pleasure as I moved within her.

"Molly," I breathed, and I couldn't stop saying her name, as if it were the only word I knew, the only one that mattered. " _Molly…_ "

Clichés be damned, I swear that time stopped while Molly and I made love. I have no idea how long we lasted. She was riding me when her climax hit her, bracing one hand on my chest while her other hand, the manacled one, guided mine in helping her along. She let out a wavering cry, shaking above me, nails suddenly sharp against my chest, and I followed her over that edge, shuddering under each wave of pleasure as her body tightened around me. Ecstasy, pure and bright, filled the world until nothing else remained.

My return to awareness was slow and gradual. Molly lay on my chest, her long, damp hair drying in messy tangles on my skin. I listened to her breathing while the thunderstorm rolled away into the distance, leaving only soft rainfall pattering against the windows.

She lifted her head, and her eyes, bright blue and vulnerable, searched mine. I think we were both a little stunned by what we'd done, and overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

"You alright?" I asked softly, brushing her hair back from her cheek.

She nodded. Smiled, a little. "Wow…"

"Yeah." I smiled back. "I, uh… Still processing everything."

That made her laugh. "Same here."

We watched the candlelit shadows play on the walls in silence for a while. I hadn't really thought about what to expect _after._ It was a pleasant surprise to realize that I just felt…content. Being there with her, in the silence, was enough. I lay with Molly in my arms and didn't think about what would happen tomorrow, or next week, or next month. We were there, together, and it was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note** : Final chapter! Thanks for reading :)

* * *

Eventually, Molly reached up with her free hand to unlock the manacle from my wrist. Winter flooded back to me as the steel fell away, once again easing my half-forgotten aches and pains. Molly squeezed my hand once, slid off the bed, and padded quietly into the bathroom.

Following her example, I sat up, grabbed my boxers and headed down the hall to the other bathroom, calling up a ball of pale blue light as I went. After I cleaned up, I leaned on the sink and stared at the mirror.

No monster looked back at me. I'd just slept with Molly Carpenter—my former student, my best friend's daughter. It _felt_ like something should be different. Maybe I had expected to see horns sprouting from my head afterward, or something. But it was just me, looking scruffy as always, with a day's growth of stubble on my chin and shadows in my eyes. There was a sharp, cold edge to my expression that I hadn't gotten used to seeing, even months after becoming part of Winter. Overall, though… I was still human, more or less.

 _She was right,_ I thought, with a wry smile. It hadn't made me a monster.

"What's funny?" Molly asked softly, appearing in the doorway. She was still gloriously naked, except for the manacles still dangling from one wrist.

" _Life_ is funny," I murmured, eyeing her up and down and enjoying every inch of it. "Never thought we'd be here, and that I'd be okay with it, but here we are."

Her cheeks colored faintly under my scrutiny, and my response made her eyes sparkle. She wrapped her arms around my chest and didn't reply. I could see her expression in the mirror: eyes squeezed shut against a teary smile. I couldn't blame her for worrying about how I'd handle the aftermath, but I guess I'd said just the right thing. I smiled and kissed her hair gently.

We stood there in silence for a while, until the mantle of the Winter Knight began to stir, free again and very aware that there was a beautiful woman pressed against me. Hunger, hot and insistent, began a slow pulse within me. My arm tightened possessively around her, and our gazes met in the mirror. The corner of her mouth quirked in a knowing smile. "Welcome back, my Knight."

I grimaced. "Don't. It's _not_ welcome," I muttered, forcing the mantle back.

"I disagree," Molly said mischievously. She slipped out from my grasp, caught both my hands and tugged me out of the bathroom. "I mean, you don't need any help from the mantle to be sexy as hell, Harry, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't do something for me."

Letting her lead me back to the bedroom, I frowned. "Uh… really?" I knew the Winter Knight embodied humanity's primal instincts, including a disturbingly aggressive sex drive, but I hadn't ever thought of it as attractive.

"Yes, isn't it obvious?" She replied with a grin, drawing me into the bedroom. "I'm not afraid of the Winter Knight."

"Maybe you should be," I said in a low, dangerous voice. I hadn't meant to sound threatening, but more of Winter spilled into the words than I'd expected. Hell's bells, I was already losing this battle.

She shivered at my response, and I tried not to notice that as I fought back Winter's consuming lust. She kissed me, which of course just made it worse. Half-distracted, I kissed her back and reached again for the manacle that still dangled from her wrist.

She jerked her hand away from mine. "Uh-uh," she said, planting her other palm on my chest, keeping me at arm's length. "Not this time, Harry."

I ground my teeth, torn between a confusing twist of emotions: fury that she would dare defy me, satisfaction that my prey was providing a challenge, eagerness to take her without the touch of steel to hold me back, and a nagging sense that I was about to do something I'd regret. Winter seethed under the surface of my consciousness, and I came dangerously close to drowning in it. A vision rose in my mind: I could see myself ravaging her, taking her in every possible way, violating her while her breathless screams filled my ears.

I wanted it, desperately.

It terrified me.

"Molls," I whispered. "You don't know what you're—"

"Don't I?" She interrupted sharply, fixing me with a glare. "I'm the _Winter Lady_. I know exactly what's driving you, my Knight. I know we _both_ want this. And… I'm pretty sure that we already had this conversation, like, two hours ago."

I huffed out a sharp breath, not quite a laugh. Part of me wanted to insist that this wasn't the same thing at all… but part of me just didn't care. And that part was already winning.

I knew the battle was lost when she dropped slowly to her knees in front of me. I could see a dark, lovely hunger in her eyes—she did want this, just as much as I did, and she knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

I reached for words and could only manage two. "Not fair," I whispered roughly, brushing my fingertips over her hair.

"Yeah?" Molly raised her eyebrows, challenging. "What are you gonna do about it, boss?"

I gave the only answer I could. I slid my hand deeper into her hair, and gave in. Winter's power surged forth, subsuming me under its icy-hot hunger. I clenched my fist and pulled her closer; she was already tugging at my boxers. Her lips closed around me, and I let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl.

I had never indulged the Winter mantle before, not this way. I'd unleashed it for violence when I needed the edge, when I wanted my enemies to feel its fury, but I'd never risked acting on the Knight's lust. I'd seen what my predecessor had done, and I knew what I _wanted_ to do; I would hurt someone if I let my guard down.

But if I had _known_ how goddamn fantastic it would feel to finally surrender control to Winter…I probably wouldn't have made it this long.

" _Fuck, yes,_ " I hissed, seizing more of her hair with my other hand, shuddering. The mantle roiled, ravenous and powerful and overwhelmingly satisfied to be free. I felt as if I'd been sealed into a tiny box for months, and only now set loose to breathe, to move, to _live_. Between that vast relief, and the wet heat of Molly's mouth sliding down my length, it's a wonder I didn't finish right then and there.

But no… I wanted to make this last. I let her continue for as long as I could stand it before I pulled back and hauled her to her feet, pushed her toward the bed.

I don't like to remember how I behaved after that. Winter took what it wanted, and I…. I wasn't just observing as the mantle took over. I _was_ Winter. _I_ took what I wanted from Molly, and the only reason I can still live with myself is the fact that she wanted it, too.

If she had changed her mind… it wouldn't have mattered to the Winter Knight, and it wouldn't have stopped me.

Thankfully, I don't have to live with _that_ regret. Molly was willing and eager in my arms, gasping my name in my ear as I fucked her, and it was nearly as good as the first time. The world narrowed to a breathless, pounding urgency and a deep satisfaction that this was… almost… perfect.

Something was missing.

I don't know what made me do it. I don't know if _instinct_ is the right word, but it seems to fit, since I was pretty far beyond rational thought. Whatever it was, something made me pause. I braced myself over Molly and reached for the manacle on her wrist.

She realized immediately what I was doing. "No!" She cried, pulling her hand away, shoving at my chest. I heard real fear in her voice, and I liked it, God help me. I growled wordlessly and pinned her wrist to the bed. She began to struggle beneath me, her free hand fumbling at mine, desperate to stop me. "You can't, Harry! Please don't, please, no no nono _nono_ —"

I ignored her pleas, clicked open the manacle, and let it fall.

The change was instantaneous. I saw her pupils dilate hugely, like a hunting cat's. Her other hand suddenly gripped my throat with inhuman strength, nails pressing sharp points into my skin, ready to crush my trachea like an empty Coke can. I had an instant of clarity to realize that I'd been wrong, and it was too late to do anything about it.

She pulled me closer, dragging me down by my throat until our noses nearly touched. In a low, fierce voice that only partly sounded like Molly, she snarled, " _Yes…_ "

I blinked, surprise cutting through the haze of my raging desire. Molly bared her teeth at me, and the room spun abruptly. I found myself on my back, staring up at the youngest Queen of Winter riding me, her hand still clamped around my neck. She rolled her hips slowly against me and raised one eyebrow, as if to ask what I was waiting for.

That moment of clarity began to fade. As Winter closed over me again, I grasped her thighs with both hands and hissed, " _Finally…"_

When I'd become the Winter Knight, Mab and I had sealed our bargain with some—ahem—intimate contact. With her raw power on display, elemental and vast enough to make me scream in terror, our interaction had only approximated sex. Above all else, it had been a ritual to bind me to the Winter Court (and, embarrassingly, ensure that all the Sidhe knew it).

This felt similar, as if this were a ritual, too. But the similarity ended there. This…

My God.

 _This_ was no approximation; this was the most blindingly intense, violently intimate, _real_ sex I'd ever known. Every nerve in my body was alight, every touch of Molly's flesh was more fuel for the flame. The connection between us was still there, but somehow _more,_ crackling with energy like an intangible live wire. The mantles drove both of us to dominate, to gain control; but neither of us held the upper hand for more than a few minutes. When I flipped us again, holding her down, she sank her teeth into my neck until I snarled and jerked away. When she rolled us clear off the bed and onto the floor, I seized the advantage, twisting around so I could take her from behind. When I pulled her to her feet, she shoved me hard against the wall, rammed fingers tipped with long, icy talons into the drywall beside my shoulders, and climbed onto my—

Well, you get the picture. _Rough_ doesn't even begin to describe what we did. Everything I'd feared about setting the mantle loose was true, and it was perfect. This was what my instinct had been craving earlier. Only the Winter Lady, free and unhindered, could provide what I needed: a partner whose violent urges matched my own, who gave back as good as she got.

It lasted for a long time, and every minute was fierce, primal, animalistic. Lines blurred; it was easy to forget whether we were fucking or fighting, easy to forget who the hell I was. The only thing I knew for certain was that neither of us wanted to stop.

It didn't end until we reached a stalemate of sorts. I sat on the edge of the bed, trapping her in my arms but unable to flip us and force her down; she surged against me, long legs locking me in place but without the leverage to push me back. Unable to overcome one another, we finally found the rhythm we needed. Face to face, our breath mingled, growing ragged and desperate. And then…

I had already been claimed by one Queen of Winter, but apparently there was enough of me to go around. Molly seized my head in both hands, her endlessly deep, blue eyes boring into mine. She mouthed a word.

 _MINE._

There was no breath behind her lips, no voice to carry the sound, but I heard that word as clearly as if she'd cried out. It throbbed through the very core of my being. Without a sound, Molly had spoken truth into existence, just as Mab had done to me.

But this time was different.

This time, I mirrored the gesture, sinking my hands into her hair and pulling her closer until her eyes filled my vision. This time, I spoke my own truth, with a surge of power that was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It spilled forth without my conscious thought; the Winter Knight laid claim to the Winter Lady with an ancient, unfathomable magic that burst from my lips in a single word, a vicious snarl of triumph.

 _ **"MINE!"**_

I was hers, and she was mine. As if set free by this new, absolute truth, the climax seized us both then. Molly arched against me, shuddering in my arms with a sobbing cry. I thrust into her again and again, unable to stop. I groaned helplessly against her skin as waves of pleasure and release took hold, endlessly, unbearably, _too much_ —

I fell back onto the bed, gasping, my vision swimming with dark spots, and Molly collapsed onto me. Winter began receding, finally sated. I clung to Molly as if she would anchor me until I found sanity again. She quivered, over and over. "Oh my God," she breathed, shakily.

Speech seemed a little out of reach for me, so I just held her tighter, tried to catch my breath, and hoped I was going to survive. But if not… I could die content right then. _Stars and stones…_

After a minute, Molly rolled away, flopping onto her back next to me. We lay there as sweat cooled on our skin, panting together, watching our breath rise in plumes in the cold air.

Wait. _What?_

I summoned the strength to prop myself up and look around. Only one of the candles remained lit. In its light, a gleam of frost sparkled on every surface in the room—bed, walls, furniture, even the ceiling. The air in the room felt more like Chicago in January than the Caribbean in July.

Then I blinked and looked again. Underneath the layer of frost, not much of the room remained intact. The blankets, shredded, hung off one end of the bed in a tangle. The mattress, ruined by two sets of long gashes, sat thoroughly askew beneath us, and at least three pillows had been torn open, feather innards strewn about. A round, stuffed chair in the corner had been overturned, a few legs broken off, and it took me a moment to realize that the trail of splintered wood across the floor had once been a nightstand. Lamps and books had been knocked to the floor. A canvas painting hung crookedly, torn, next to the remains of a full-length mirror that had spilled shards of glass across the carpet. More than one set of holes—both hand-sized and torso-sized—dented the walls. And had that huge crack in the ceiling been there before?

"You look like hell, Harry," Molly said, amused.

"Story of my life," I muttered. I glanced down, intending to give her a smile; instead, I flinched. She hadn't fared much better than the rest of the room. Bruises from fingers and teeth darkened the skin of her throat, her arms, her breasts, her waist. She bore quite a few long, red scratches, too.

"Don't," she said suddenly, laying one hand on my arm. "Don't start feeling guilty. Look." She turned her head so I could see one of the worst marks on her neck, a deep purple love bite that you could probably use to identify my remains if I died in a fire. I squinted at it; it was already fainter than I had thought at first. I watched as it faded to shades of sickly yellow-green, fast-forwarding through weeks of healing in a few moments.

"Doesn't even hurt," she reassured me with a smile. "You know how it is."

"Yeah," I said slowly, realizing she was right. I may have looked like hell, but I hadn't even noticed my own cuts and bruises until now, and they were already healing, too.

Molly sat up, plucked a two-inch shard of mirrored glass from the rugburned skin of her knee, and surveyed the room silently.

"This shouldn't have happened," she said finally, her voice soft.

My heart dropped about twenty feet. She must have felt it, for she turned immediately to face me, pressed a reassuring hand to my cheek. "No," she whispered. "I meant—I'm so, so glad it did happen, Harry. But it shouldn't have been _possible._ I should have torn you to shreds when the manacle came off."

"I think you did," I teased gently. I shrugged one shoulder at her, feeling the skin tug at the deep lacerations she'd left there, now half-healed.

She didn't seem to notice. "What does it mean?" She asked, worried blue eyes searching mine.

"I don't have an answer, Molls. I'm sorry."

We stared at each other for another moment before she nodded and kissed my lips. "If it means something important, I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually," she murmured. "I'm too tired to theorize right now."

"Amen," I agreed. I scooted further onto the bed, beyond caring about the ruined mattress or the thin layer of frost melting under me. Molly followed and settled down in the crook of my arm, head pillowed on my shoulder, one leg draped across my thighs.

"Goodnight, Grasshopper," I murmured against her hair. I probably wouldn't have said that if I hadn't already been half asleep. But her mumbled reply made me smile as oblivion closed in on me.

"G'night, boss."

* * *

When I woke up, sunlight streamed in between the edges of the heavy drapes, and Molly lay on her side, watching me. Lines of golden light fell across her skin, lit up the spill of her bright hair.

 _Mine,_ I remembered with satisfaction. I stared at her for a long time, thinking drowsily that the sight of her was a perfect way to start the day.

The corners of her eyes crinkled happily. "That's adorable."

Blearily, I blinked a few times. "Right," I mumbled, finally coming all the way awake. "I forgot about the mind-reading."

Molly laughed softly. "That's not what I do."

"Close enough," I murmured, reaching for her. I ran my hands over her skin, still half-disbelieving that she was there with me. "Mmm. Can you tell what I'm thinking now?"

"Oh, please," she breathed, lowering her head toward mine. "Like I'd need to be a sensitive to know that." We kissed, gentle and sweet, until the dark undercurrents of Winter's desire began to stir in us both, calling to each other. I stiffened, unwilling to let the mantle emerge again so soon. Sensing my hesitation, Molly drew back, eyes searching mine.

"Later," I promised her. "We'd better eat something first if we're gonna have another workout like last night." As if on cue, my stomach emitted the loudest rumble I've ever heard.

Molly dissolved into giggles at the noise. Grinning, I slid off the bed and pulled on my boxers. "Plus, the sun is finally out," I added. "We should enjoy the beach while we're here." I picked my way carefully across the wreckage-strewn floor, eager to see the beach in the sunshine, now that last night's storm had cleared.

"You just want to see me in a bikini," Molly teased.

"Well, duh _._ " I shot her a grin over my shoulder, then drew the drapes back.

Mab stood on the terrace, so close that she was nearly touching the sliding glass door. I jerked backward and let out a manly noise of startlement that absolutely was not a yelp.

She eyed me up and down through the glass, expressionless. She wore white sandals, and a lacy-looking white dress, the kind of mesh sweater-thing that women throw on over their swimsuits at the beach. If Mab wore a swimsuit under this one, I couldn't see it. A big floppy sunhat shaded her face, and there was a perfect streak of sunscreen on the bridge of her nose, placed as carefully as makeup would be.

I glanced over at Molly. She sat bolt upright in the bed, with the sheet clutched to her chest, looking for all the world like a teenager who'd been caught by her parents.

Heh. If someone had to find me and Molly the morning after, I would rather face the Queen of Air and Darkness than Charity Carpenter, any day.

I unlocked the glass door and slid it aside. "Hell's _bells_ ," I spat. "Was the heart attack really necessary?"

Mab looked me over once more. "The front entrance was not an option," she said coolly, as if that explained why she'd been standing with her nose to the glass, apparently just waiting for me to open the curtains. She turned her gaze to Molly, dismissing me. "Well done, child," she said, a hint of amusement in her rich voice. "I see you have finally begun to think like one of the Sidhe."

"Um… Have I?" Molly sounded confused.

Mab nodded toward the thorn manacles, which lay forgotten in a corner. "You have found a way to get what you want, obeying the letter of the law, as it were, while disobeying in spirit. I expected this from you, eventually; I was only surprised that it took you this long."

"…Thank you?" Molly said, carefully.

The Winter Queen continued, "But you must remember caution. Do not forget that the mantle exists, and is the way it is, for a reason—"

Whatever she said next, I missed it, because several pieces suddenly fell into place. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was suddenly glad that Mab wasn't looking at me.

Molly's mantle acted to prevent the Winter Lady from becoming a mother. I'd figured that out a while ago; it explained why Maeve had been so sex-starved and so feared by the Sidhe, it explained what had happened to Carlos, and it was why Molly had needed the manacles while we were together. Cruel as always, Winter drove its Lady with a lust that—theoretically—could never be sated. She could not be a mother, by definition; and the mantle would lash out in self-preservation at anyone who even came close to violating that rule.

But the Winter Knight appeared to be an exception.

 _The Knight has different duties to each Queen,_ Bob had told me once. He hadn't gone into detail about the duties to the Lady, but I was willing to bet that Molly and I had figured out one of them last night. We'd found a loophole in her mantle's terms and conditions, and it wasn't hard to imagine it having something to do with the transfer of power in the Winter Court. But that wasn't even the worst of it.

We'd used a condom the first time. But I'd only had one with me, tucked away in my wallet for God knows how long. The second time…well, that had been the _last_ thing on my mind.

Oh, Hell's bells.

Mab's and Molly's voices swam in my ears as I came back to the present; I hadn't heard another word of the conversation. Mab eyed me again, _almost_ expressionless, but I could see a hint of a smile on her lips. She was scheming, as usual, and I wondered if she knew what Molly and I had _really_ done. She glanced over her shoulder towards the ocean, then back at us. "I shall leave you to your… vacation," she said. "My Knight, I will have duties for you upon your return."

"Sure thing," I managed, hoarsely.

Mab nodded toward Molly, cast a last sideways glance at me. Then, slowly and deliberately, without twitching another muscle in that impossibly beautiful face, Mab closed one eye and disappeared.

"Did… did she just _wink_ at us?" Molly asked.

"She knows something we don't," I said grimly. I turned away from the door, wondering how I was going to tell Molly my suspicions.

"What's wrong, Harry? You look white as a sheet."

I opened my mouth to answer, then paused—I'd heard a noise from the front of the condo. " _Now_ what?" I muttered. I held up a hand, signaling Molly to wait, and made my way down the hall toward the living room. I could hear voices, muted exclamations, as if the speakers were afraid to speak aloud. It wasn't until I reached the end of the hall that I recognized Thomas' and Justine's voices.

My brother stood just inside the front door, one arm shielding Justine protectively behind him. When I stepped around the corner, his other hand darted toward the inside of his expensive jacket.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, holding up my hands. "It's just me, Thomas. Hi, Justine."

"Harry?" He relaxed only a little, scowling at me. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah…uh, sorry about the mess."

He glanced around the living room, taking in the overturned furniture, the shattered pottery on the floor. "I thought we'd been robbed. What the hell happened? Were you drunk?"

"Something like that," I admitted.

Thomas rolled his eyes, stepping into the living room and turning in a circle, gazing at the spray of shards that littered the floor. "You know, normally I wouldn't care, since Lara pays for all this stuff, but I actually _liked_ that sculp—"

"Hello, Molly," Justine said warmly.

Thomas' head jerked up, staring as Molly stepped up next to me, wrapped in the torn bedsheet. For a few awkward seconds, no one said anything, and I could see her wavering between imperious faerie queen and embarrassed mortal. She settled somewhere in between, giving the two of them a smile. "Hey, guys."

I slid one arm around her waist and raised an eyebrow at my brother. Thomas' mouth worked silently, a hidden smile tugging at the corners. "Wow," he said finally, laughter in his voice. "You know what, I'm not even mad. Good for you guys."

"He says that now," I told Molly. "Wait until he sees the bedroom."

Thomas' eyebrows nearly climbed up to his scalp. Before he could reply, Justine stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. "We'll see about finding a hotel," she said, beaming at us. "You stay here as long as you need."

My brother shook himself, and they moved toward the door. "Uh, yeah. Of course! Just try not to destroy anything else—though I know that might be hard for you, little bro."

"No promises," I told him. As he pulled the door shut, he looked back and mouthed _way to go_ , with the biggest, goofiest, proudest grin I've ever seen on his face.

I saluted him wryly. The door shut behind them, and Molly collapsed against me, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Oh, man," she gasped out between giggles. "That was a lot more awkwardness than I was prepared for, this morning."

"Tell me about it," I chuckled.

Molly's laughter faded to a smile. "I guess we have some cleaning up to do, huh?"

I gazed at her for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her—disheveled, lovely, _mine._

"Later," I told her. Arm around her waist, I led her toward the kitchen. "First, coffee. And then we're going to enjoy breakfast on the beach. And then…we'll have to talk about Mab's visit."

"And _then_ what?" She asked playfully.

I had no idea. If my theory about the mantles was correct, we might have some damage control to worry about. And then we'd have to go back home at some point, back to our lives, and deal with how everything had changed since last night. There was a lot to consider.

But…what the hell. We were on vacation.

"Maybe some more wanton destruction?" I suggested.

Molly grinned, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "You got it, boss."


End file.
